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This cannot be happening, it surely is just a nightmare, or a hallucination. Or maybe someone is twisting the very fabric of reality so now everything is upside down. It must be one of these things, or perhaps a combination of some of them. But reality? Definitely not. It just can’t be. Still, even he can’t ignore how damn real it feels, and this what is now scaring him shitless, because his instinct is very rarely wrong.
“You’re kidding,” he says, although he knows all too well that’s not the case, Steve would never joke around on something like this. But he has to hang on to anything in order to keep the beginning of a panic attack at bay.
“Tony...” it’s almost a plea, his name pronounced as if it was self explanatory on its own, and maybe it is.
“Who put you up to this? Was it Nat? I swear, when are you actually gonna learn not to bet against her?”
“Tony, you’re not hearing me...” the other replies, and this time his voice has an edge to it that he really doesn’t like, because it sounds so... final.
“Correction,” he interrupts, shaking his head and focusing his eyes elsewhere, because seeing the blue ones in front of him is getting harder and harder with each passing second, “I am hearing you, but you’re not making any sense, so I’m choosing to ignore you instead, until you stop this tasteless prank, that is.”
His back is turned against the soldier now as he takes a few steps away from him, a dull hope that distance might help whatever this is hurting less. Of course, it’s pointless, and he didn’t expect it to work in the first place, but sometimes you can’t do much except wishing for the best. As he moves to the big window behind his desk, Tony’s eyes encounter many pictures, all too painful memories of their life together, the same life that now Steve is tearing away just with a few, almost whispered words that nevertheless feel like precise stabs to Tony’s heart. Except for one – which is of the whole team after their first victory together – all of the others are from after Steve and he officially started dating, a detail made clear by their overprotective, vigilant and possessive stances, always alert, afraid that a sudden, out-of-nowhere danger might pop up at any given second to rob them from this unexpected – albeit much wished for – happiness that is nothing more than everyone else’s normality. As if following their own thought, his eyes end up stopping on a particular picture, the same one Tony was so hard trying to ignore: their wedding day, a few years back. In it, they’re standing in front of the officiant and facing each other, hopelessly stargazing into their respective eyes, hands together as hearing the words bound to change their lives forever. Steve is dressed up in blue and Tony in red, and although you could never tell by the picture, Steve hadn’t liked this idea at all for the longest time, but if you were to ask him right in that moment, he would have said that Tony looked perfect, and couldn’t imagine him wearing anything else. Now, Tony can feel his eyes welling up at the memory, so he forces himself to look away before speaking again.
“When did you stop loving me, then? I think I deserve to know as much,” he eventually says, and this time his own voice scares him, because it speaks of a painful acknowledgment of the new, impossible reality.
Steve remains silent for a long time, to the point Tony starts considering that maybe he didn’t speak loud enough, or at all.
“I’ve never stopped loving you,” he hears eventually, and if he hoped the answer to his question was going to help him giving him some clues about what was happening, he was solely mistaken, because this…
“It doesn’t make any sense!” he exclaims then, his tone so hard and edgy that it could cut a paper in two.
“I’m not saying it does, I just… I can’t explain it any better than this, and—“
“That’s bullshit, Rogers, and you fucking know it!” he replies, turning to face him again, and much to his surprise he finds the other mere inches away from him. How – and when – did it happen? He hasn’t heard him coming closer, and is not prepared to face him at such short distance. He can’t. But it only gets worse, because now Steve is stretching a hand forward, taking Tony’s into his, and closing the remaining gap between them.
“Listen to me,” the soldier says, and he can smell the minty breath and the warmth already conquering his whole body, and what is he supposed to do now, just pretend it’s not happening or ignore it? Neither is a feasible option. “You need to let me go, and move on. You’re an amazing person, Tony, and I wish it hadn’t come to this, but—“
But Steve never finishes his sentence because a hard slap lands on his cheek, and although he might have anticipated that it might come, by the way his eyes almost double in size Tony can tell the hardness with which it hits him is a total surprise. Still, he can’t bring himself to care, the panic attack is on the verge of breaking out now, his chest feels as tight as if stripped onto a hospital bed and he feels like his skin is boiling up. He shoves Steve with all the energy he’s got left in him, and it’s only now that he notices a terrifyingly familiar blue light coming from one of the other’s pockets; even in the midst of all this, he can’t lie to himself about what that could be. Because surely enough, if his supposition is correct, then…
“What’s that in your pocket? Is it the mind gem? Why do y—“
The rest of his sentence dies – or, better, disappears – in the air, along with seemingly everything else as darkness engulfs them both and all their surroundings.
From the moment he wakes up, it takes him several moment to acknowledge that he is, in fact, conscious; he naturally rolls on his side, blindly stretching a hand forward, looking for the reassuring body of the other, but of course he doesn’t find it, because, well, there’s no one there. Steve is away on one of the ambassador missions they ask him to lead from time to time, and he’s going to be gone for a couple of days more, nothing he can do about it, except…
Tony stretches towards the nightstand and grabs his phone, staring at it for a few seconds as trying to decide whether to go through with it. He hates being this weak, feeling the physical need to hear his voice, seeing he can’t have the comfort of his arms around his body. And still, he knows the day would be useless was he to not do it. In his chest, his heart is still palpitating so fast that he can feel it in the depth of his throat. His head contains only one name. Tony sighs, moving his thumb to press the green icon, but exactly as he’s about to, the phone starts vibrating in his hand, and on the display, under his incredulous eyes, appears five precious letters. How can this be?
“I love you,” he blurts out as soon as he accepts the call, and before the other can say anything, he hurries to ask the question that has been making his head spin since he opened his eyes: “D-Do you still—“
But this time he’s the one being cut off, Steve’s voice covering his words in a rush that makes Tony understand the other didn’t even heard his question: “I love you too, oh my god, I had the weirdest—“
“—dream,” Tony concludes in his place, slowly coming to a sitting position, hugging his knees to his chest and blinking in disbelief. “Me too. Did yours involve the mind gem?”
“How do you even—“
“I had the same, which can only mean one thing,” he sighs, shaking his head to himself and covering his face with a hand, “I hoped we’d get a slightly longer break from them this time, I can’t stand those damn stones…” On the other end, the line has gone silent for the last few seconds, although it’s only now that he notices it. It doesn’t take a question for him to realize what Steve is thinking, or to figure out that his dream had Tony holding the gem instead. “I’d never ask you to forget me, you know that, right?”
“I know…” the soldier replies, his voice trembling ever slightly, but noticeable enough for him, who knows it so well, each and every fluctuation memorized in his head.
If Steve was here, he would know exactly what to do to make sure he understood that he meant every single letter of every word. He’d wrap his big arms around his body and would peck his lips over and over until the shadow of a smile crept up on his face, at which point he’d turn into the hug to kiss him more deeply, body rubbing against the other to make him actually believe he’s not going anywhere, not now, not ever. But he can’t do it at this point, so he says the only other thing that makes sense to him, that can make them both feel better.
“Send me your coordinates, I’m coming.”
And on the other end, he can hear Steve smiling.